


Ghosts in the Mirror

by Dae_Kalina



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Protective Siblings, Slow Build, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10700796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dae_Kalina/pseuds/Dae_Kalina
Summary: Sara Ryder is a smart-ass who relies on luck to see her through the situations that life throws at her. At least, that's how most of her crew sees her, and it's an image she's worked hard to craft. More to the point, this new galaxy and her new role aren't about her, and she makes sure to provide her crew with what she thinks they need to get through each day.Then along came a new alien whose frankness cuts through the smokescreen, forcing Sara to beat a hard retreat or risk exposing herself. Unfortunately, there's a draw to the newest stranger on the ship, one that feels a bit like wandering too close to a black hole.And then there's the whole bit where the universe seems to be messing with the last remaining family member Sara has left. Something has to give under the accumulated pressure.Hopefully Sara won't lose herself when she has to face what she's become.





	1. The Crafted Image

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, it's been a while since I've posted any sort of fan-fiction (not to say I don't have unwritten scripts floating around that will probably never be posted...) but given my general lack-luster feelings about the overall story of Andromeda (I adore the characters, however) I thought I'd take a stab at trying to rectify some of that. 
> 
> We'll see how this goes. 
> 
> Oh, and this is unbetaed (if anyone strongly desires to do so, I welcome it!) I can almost certainly promise there will be mistakes and issues.

If you talked to anyone who had known Sara Ryder in her pre-teen years, they would have likely told you that they couldn’t recall her. Or, and perhaps worse, they would have remembered her solely as the other half of the set of twins of which Scott Ryder was the shining example. Sara was quiet, reserved, and seemed unable to comprehend the emotional ranges of her fellows, making her an outsider at best.

If you talked to those she went to school with on the Citadel in her teenage years, Sara Ryder was a young lady with a wicked tongue and sharp intelligence, often found in company of her boisterous and good-natured twin brother. The pair defined each other, Sara’s dark wit the counterweight to Scott’s bright humor. No one would speak to her separate of her twin; she was too much her father’s daughter.

At university, no one would have believed the depictions of her various younger selves. Sara Ryder had rewritten herself, scribbled over the neat lines of her past self with a chaotic scrawl. Sara was a rebel, smart and funny, with terrible luck that was fortunately complemented by the ability to laugh at herself. Popular and talented; everyone wanted to be friends with Sara and Scott. They were the life of any party, and they could turn around and kick ass both in the classroom and on almost any playing field. The pair even collected a few new scars and tats to go with their reputation.

Both twins had been tagged for the Alliance military, something most of their friends chalked up to their heritage, from the start of university, and so when they went off on their various assignments, everyone expected that they would have long, possibly great, military careers.

No one, at any of these stages, would have ever imagined her spending 600 years in cryosleep and traveling to Andromeda.

Then again, none of these people really knew Sara Ryder. They didn’t even know the more open Scott Ryder.

What they didn’t know was that Sara Ryder went to Rio for the first stage of N7 training, but left before she was officially awarded the rank of N1, despite her exemplary performance.

What they didn’t know was that Scott Ryder had struggled with being separated from his sister, despite his claims that he did not rely on his older—by one minute!—sister. He was so used to her presence, to keeping an eye out for her, mostly in terms of their social spheres, that when he kept turning to say something to her and she was conspicuously absent he found himself floundering. The loss of his near-constant shadow had him becoming a little more cynical, a little sharper with his words.  

What they didn’t know was that Sara struggled too, feeling like she was missing a limb without her brother around.

And neither of them would ever bring up the slow death of their mother, or their strained relationship—if you could even stretch the word to describe what they had—with Alec Ryder.

No, what people didn’t know about Sara Ryder could make Suvi’s report on Heleus’ soil look like a sparse and concise abstract. But that was the way Sara Ryder liked it.

* * *

Sara was focusing on breathing as Kallo guided her ship through the Scourge, white-knuckling the railing.

In retrospect, she might have made more headway if she had been less snappish, but she had let some of her irritation at her crew-mates get to her. Yes, Suvi, she was capable of seeing all the damn Kett ships in front of their big-ass windows on their lovely scouting ship that had lots of aforementioned windows and no weapons to speak of.

And yes, Kallo, she could see the big cloud of Scourge that had them neatly trapped in a Charybdis and Scylla situation, thank you very much.

And SAM… SAM was in her freaking head but still had to let the entire ship know they were being scanned—of course they were, it’s what they _should_ have been doing right away. But instead, she has to give the order to scan the enemy back because apparently everyone has decided on playing at deer-in-the-headlights.

Then the cherry on the sundae had been the Archon, that smug, arrogant alien piece of excrement, telling her that he wouldn’t explain what she couldn’t understand.

If Sara had a cred for every time someone though that her blasé attitude, bad luck, or awful humor constituted stupidity, she probably could have funded the Initiative single-handedly.

Just for kicks, calling her naïve and reckless had been sprinkles on the shit sundae.

Sara’s mask slipped, a feral snarl curling her lips as rage poured through her while SAM privately communicated the need to stall. Stall. Yes, she could do that.

Slowly she settled her features into an approximation of pissed, but scared, human. Even if it wasn’t a very good attempt at schooling her features, she was willing to bet the Archon wasn’t yet familiar enough with humans to tell the difference.

Sara was vaguely aware that the rest of her crew had come up behind her at some point, and that Cora had a restraining arm on Liam. That was probably for the better. She liked Liam, and their romp on the couch had been great, but she really didn’t need him drawing the ire of the Archon.

No, she wanted him to focus on her.

“You’re right,” she said sweetly, belying the expression she had worked to construct. “Today is the beginning of my greatness. It begins by eluding you and your cronies, and it will end when I put you down like a rabid dog.” She straightened her back, expression turning haughty.

“I’ll be back for you later, Archon dear. Try not to miss me too much.” With that, she cut the feed. “Now!” she shouted, turning towards Kallo.

It would really ruin her speech if they got caught.

Vetra nearly had a heart-attack as they finally pulled out of the cloud of Scourge, and Drack was laughing. Well, at least _someone_ had enjoyed the incident.

Of course, the Tempest wasn’t nearly as unscathed as her crew was. “Take her down,” Ryder said tiredly, rubbing a hand over her face. She wasn’t even phased when they were hailed and she had to listen to some new aliens—their voice alone let her know that at least she was rid of the kett for now—laugh at her. _Join the club_ , she thought dryly, turning back towards the large window. She was starting to hate all the glass on the Tempest.

“I promise that we are far better-looking and mostly better behaved than the kett,” she responded, anticipating that they too would have to rely more on her tone than her words for communication.

They broke through the clouds and Sara felt a genuine smile break over her face. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, looking over the little bit of paradise she had finally found.

Maybe Andromeda wasn’t entirely one death-trap planet after another with only homicidal aliens.

Walking towards the ramp, she paused to reassure her friends, placating Vetra’s near-constant concerns as the elder-sibling type, and trading roguish grins with Liam. Cora looked unflappable, as always, Drack didn’t seem too concerned about her getting squished, and Peebee was lurking silently in the background, pretending like it didn’t really impact her.

“If this goes badly—if I get eaten alive—even if it’s hilarious—please destroy the vids.” Sara focused her cocky grin on Liam as she walked backwards down the ramp, not wanting to see Vetra’s concern return with her off-color humor. “I mean it!” she added as she turned towards the new aliens, arms held above her head, palms facing out as she was approached by several of them pointing weapons at her.

Liam was shaking his head, torn between excitement and trepidation. Peebee was leaning casually against the wall, looking perfectly calm.

“That tongue of hers is going to get us all in trouble,” Vetra rasped, fond exasperation crossing her features.

“She’s not as half as funny as she thinks she is,” Peebee finally said, and Liam had picked up on her character enough to realize that she was more concerned for their Ryder than she was willing to reveal.

“If they try anything, they’ll be smears on the walls,” Drack rumbled.

“The Pathfinder has been reading the manuals, and she’s the only one authorized for first contact. It’ll be okay,” Cora added, her reassurances not seeming to reassure anyone.

“She’ll be fine,” Gil said nonchalantly, coming up behind all of them and clapping Cora and Liam on the shoulder. “She’s actually got a poker face, unlike all of you poor saps. The ship, on the other hand, could use some help from all of you. Since, you know, she’s the one who actually got hurt in the last encounter.”

There were some mixed groans, but the crew slowly filtered towards the cargo bay of the Tempest, letting Gil direct their efforts to get their ship up to par once more.

* * *

“Need me to take my shoes off?” Sara quipped as the aliens ran a scanner over her before marching her before a figure. Luckily, her translator finally caught up to speed so she could actually understand Governor Paaran Shie’s introduction. She still had some difficulty listening, too busy studying their appearance. They were fascinating, bright hues of purple, blues, and pinks.

Paaran Shie was still rambling on as Sara refocused her attention, hastily rehearsing the protocols. At least she hadn’t had to shoot anyone so far, she mused as Paaran Shie’s introduction continued.

It was cut off by a scarred male who appeared, much to the Governor’s seeming displeasure. The mask almost faltered when the newest of her alien admirers walked up to her, getting up close and personal in a hurry.

One eye was partially concealed behind a screen, but the other had her completely entranced, lost in its startling depths. She was supposed to be doing things, she thought, as that whorl of stars got nearer and nearer. Maybe she was entering shock, the adrenaline from earlier wearing off, because her thoughts were becoming increasingly incoherent.  

“What do you want?” The words brought her back to reality with much the same flair as the Tempest had had moments ago, landing on Aya.

“I apologize,” she said quickly, the words engrained in her. Placate. Soothe. Admit fault when they already take it as fact. “Landing here the way we did, without warning, on fire, was uh, not the plan.” Sara gave the governor a disarming grin, playing up the ‘incompetent, harmless, bumbling human’ angle as much as possible, and letting her thoughts collect themselves by not looking at the fascinating figure who was still invading her personal space.

“That’s good to know. Because if it was, that would be a very bad plan.” The male’s voice rumbled. Against her will, Sara’s eyes found themselves drifting back to him, raking up his chest to his face. Then the bastard grinned, a small, fleeting smile that was quickly gone as he turned.

Sara’s breath caught, and she found herself well and truly off-guard, her thoughts upheaved once more. At this point, she didn’t think it was even worth attempting to catch them.

Instead, her brain took stock of the way fate seemed to be having a laugh at her expense.

Falling out of shuttles? Crap luck, but not entirely unexpected. It hadn’t been that bad in the end.

Getting her helmet broken and watching her father die so she could live? Why the hell not. This galaxy seemed intent on screwing her over in as many ways as possible in as short of a time as possible.

Finding an alien whose smile made her breath catch, her heart quicken, and her palms sweat with just a grin?

Un. Fucking. Believable.

She followed Paaran Shie in a daze, only just barely walking fast enough to keep the guards happy. Her mouth was moving, and she was doing a good impersonation of a pathfinder, being polite but inquisitive. At least she assumed she was, since no one had hit her with the butt of their weapons for being an ass.

She couldn’t tell you any one detail from that walk though, not until the male from earlier crossed her path again.

She sympathized with his distrust, all too familiar with the kett, even with her brief time in Andromeda. And then she processed his words.

“What? They kidnap your people?” It was too naïve, too stupid a question. Her luck was holding, and her new alien acquaintance answered her in stride without any belittling. She appreciated it, half holding his presence as being responsible for her sudden inability to say anything that might convey that she had the barest inkling of understanding. Maybe she could sound like less of an idiot when speaking to their leader.

Unfortunately, it appeared that she would have been better off bumbling though her conversation with the first male. Evfra was not impressed by her. It was kind of a shame, as he was equally intriguing to look at. Plus, he was the Resistance leader, and maybe she had seen one too many old sci-fi vids, but that definitely lent him an edge of intrigue.

 _Woah. Hello there libido._ Sara bit down on the inside of her cheek, the brief flash of pain bringing some much-needed clarity.

“There’s a vault on Aya that’s different. I need to look inside.” Sara knew that it was rude and cold to be asking so soon and with nothing to offer in trade, but it was her job. Besides, no one expected her to approach anything with tact anyways. She might as well abuse that expectation. Having cut to the point, she raised her chin, stubborn, and was shot down, promptly.

At least they were forthcoming with the reasons why it would be impossible. It was a nice change compared to dealing with the joy that was Tann.

And then Evfra went the way of every other leader figure she had ever encountered, citing the dangers of the vault.

Yeah. She knew what they could do. It had killed her father, for starters. But she was _better_ than them when it came to the vaults. Better than all of them.

She reined in the words that threatened to roll off her tongue, chastising herself internally. After the ship was fixed, she was going to sleep for a day. She couldn’t risk breaking character like she was tempted to do right now. It wouldn’t do. Better to let them think of her as more of a bumbling incompetent who had luck enough on her side.

“Evfra, I feel… what this alien says is extraordinary.” Only the laid-back attitude she had slowly engrained into her being stopped Sara from snapping her head around to stare at her unwitting companion. Instead she turned slowly, seemingly under control, to watch the exchange between the pair.

“Let me assess this alien. I’ll be your eyes. I know you can spare me.”  Assess? Well, if he really wanted to, she would give him something to assess alright. She would just have to be even more careful not to let her crafted mask slip.

“But when she tries to kill you, be prepared to strike first.” Sara scoffed internally, a smile tugging her lips up. If she was going to kill him, there wouldn’t be a thing he could do about it, alien or no. Besides, she was more afraid of her body’s reaction to the alien.

“I am Jaal Ama Darav. I’ll be your envoy through angaran space.” Finally, a full name. She rolled it over, tasting the syllables on her tongue.

“It’s gonna be cozy, so I hope you like people.” The response was another quick line, falling from her lips before she could even process what she was saying, a teasing grin following in the wake of her words.

And then she stuck her arm out for a handshake, like the human gesture was something that the angaran would know. Stupid. The angaran moved her arm, and she let him, concealing the blush of frustration at her error. They eventually knocked the back of their hands and arms in a very, very awkward exchange that she was thrilled Liam was missing so she could scrub it from her memory later instead of reliving it over and over again.

He let out a low hmmph, before adding “I hope I don’t regret this.”

“Me too.” She flinched as she recognized the words in her own tone, not having meant to say them aloud. Jaal had already turned away, heading back towards the dock, so she allowed herself a hasty scrunch of her facial features before settling back into a relaxed smile. Deep breath, carry on. It was all working out okay.

He laughed at the docking bay when she brought up the Tempest. He laughed before they even got on the ship, and Sara found her smile becoming natural, her guard washing away at the sound. There was just something about Jaal. She wished she could put a finger on it, but it eluded her. That didn’t bode well.

* * *

 

With the full group, he shut down. He became something dark and brooding, and her hackles rose, catching for the first time a true hint at his capabilities. Someone who stuck to the shadows. Someone who observed, evaluated, and then took action.

Maybe she would have to strike first.

 _No. No. No Sara. We need him._ Her words fumbled out, trying to race each other to be the first to placate her teammates. The result made her sound unsure and hesitant, playing once more into the carefully crafted figure of the pathfinder who succeeded more by luck than skill.

“Begging. Interesting strategy.” Sara wanted to slam her head on the desk at Drack’s comment. Sometimes it was like he could see through her guise. So begging wasn’t a great strategy. It wasn’t like she could suddenly stand up and order her crew to cease staring at Jaal like they were children staring at a goldfish in a tank. They would almost certainly take an order as a joke, and she would lose even more credibility.

They hadn’t needed another Alec after his death. Cora would have lost it if she had just slid in, confident and cool, taking after her father. Liam would have never opened to a strong authority figure. Vetra needed someone who she could look after. Drack did too, but more as a doting grandfather who wanted to teach her how to be not squishy. Peebee… well, Peebee was similar to Liam in that if Sara had acted like her father, Peebee wouldn’t have acted as favorably. Peebee needed someone who was there for her, a rock on which to anchor, deny it as she might.

Sara had no idea what Jaal needed. Frankly, right now it felt a whole lot like she needed him more than he needed her, despite her promise to help them. 

It was terrifying.

So yes. If she had to beg to get all of her crew to at least pretend to listen to her, she would.

“Ryder, we followed our best lead here, and now we don’t even have that.” Cora’s comment didn’t help her dark mood.

“Jaal has offered to do what he can to help us access the vault on Aya,” she responded, sounding calm and composed. Cora was her second, and she should respect and value her opinions, but sometimes the asari-trained commando really got to her. The woman was getting better, though, and for now that would have to be enough.

Vetra chimed in, and hers was actually a question, opposed to Cora’s comments that begged a reply. “How do we do that when we’re leaving the planet it’s on?”

Sara didn’t have the answer. She was putting together this plan with bootstraps, gum, maybe some duct tape and sheer grit. At least her personae didn’t have to have all the answers. “That’s… a good point.” She turned to Jaal, trying to look vulnerable and lost, hoping that he would leap in. “Jaal?” she queried, mentally crossing her fingers that the resistance fighter would have an explanation.

Her lack of a definite answer didn’t go over well with the crew.

“Seriously?” Cora demanded, and Sara ground her molars together as she kept up her mask.

When Liam slammed his hand on the console she did jump, her body reacting, cringing away. But thank whatever forces had favored her with luck for Liam. “Settle down. Ryder’s right.” Oh, those words were sweet. She could have kissed him. Again.

Except maybe not in the middle of a serious conversation and in front of the newest member of their crew. Maybe later she would seek him out. At the very least, they could both flop on the couch and have a beer. “There’s an angara right here. Let’s hear from the new guy.”

Okay, having him restate what she’d said and watching the crew listen hurt a little, but she shoved those feelings in a corner for later. What mattered was that they were all finally ready to listen to Jaal.

Assuming that Jaal was going to speak to them. Ryder’s hands went behind her back, and she nervously gripped her wrists, gaze going to the floor as she watched Jaal remain in the shadows, seated. _C’mon,_ she thought, forcing herself to let go of her hands, dropping them back to her sides.

 _C’mon, jump in. Save the poor pathetic leader whose ship you’ve decided to jump onboard. That’s right_ , she thought as she saw him rise to his feet. _Someone has to educate the squishy aliens. Someone also needs to stop referring to everything that's not a krogan as squishy, too._

He started speaking, and her thoughts quieted as he shared how the kett had come to Andromeda and started taking the angara. 80 years. That was a painful length of time. She could sense some empathy from her crew, but their wariness was still there.

“The kett kidnap angara. Their people disappear without a trace. What if it were us?” she pressed, leaning briefly on the console in the moment, before pushing off, feeling energy buzzing beneath her skin. They needed to understand that this was their war too. What the kett were doing had to stop.

Maybe it was naïve to take a black and white approach, but they didn’t expect more from her, and she was content with leaving it at that. Having a bad guy made her job infinitely easier. Nothing brought disparate people together like having a common enemy.

“Sure, I’ll fight kett all day long, but that’s no plan.” Drack’s comment made her smile, despite the not-so-gentle reminder that they still needed an executable plan.

“I agree. We need to get into that vault, Ryder.” Sara wanted to ignore Peebee at the moment. She knew where the asari’s interests were, and it didn’t have much to do with the kett or the angara, but she needed the remnant researcher to understand that fighting the kett was going to get Peebee what she wanted at the end of the day. Or week. Or however long it was going to take to earn the trust of Evfra. 

“Surprisingly I’m with Peebee. Our own mission has to take priority,” Cora declared, glancing from the asari to Ryder. It was a bad sign when those two agreed on anything.

“We have a plan,” Sara snapped back, though her tone was warmer and friendlier than she truly desired the words to be. “Kind of,” she amended, feeling Cora’s gaze bore into her. “Pretty solid,” she tacked on, meaning for it to be reassuring as she glanced towards the angara. “Jaal?” she repeated his name as a question, begging him to take some of the attention off of her.

He spoke, answering Liam’s question without missing a beat. She could get used to having him around. If he weren’t a new alien race, she might even have considered making him her second. It couldn’t get that much more awkward between her and Cora anyways.

Of course, she was the _human_ pathfinder, so that would never happen. Still, it was a nice thought.

“Jaal’s told me about these two worlds,” Sara chimes in, regaining her stride, her voice confident. “Havarl and Voeld.” She pulled them up on the central screen, playing tech support as Jaal continued speaking on them. Sara concluded that she liked listening to him speak, the quality of the angara’s voice soothing.

Ryder already knew their course of action. Havarl would come first. The resistance was as close to military as it got for the angara, from what she had ascertained. They could last on Voeld until after they had determined the fate of the scientists on Havarl. Civilians came first. Fighters knew the risks when they signed up.

Drack still seemed uncertain, but this time Cora jumped in. Sara stared at the other biotic in dismay, listening to her words.

“I do. Help us, or rather, help me, and I’ll vouch for you. Right? Because Jaal wants inside Aya’s vault too.” Sometimes she really wished Cora would be a silent second.

“Pathfinder, it’s your call.” Yes, it was. She gave Drack a winning smile, glad that he had effectively shut down all further complaints with that simple statement.

“Okay. I appreciate the vote of confidence,” she said taking a breath before continuing.

“Maybe more like ‘optimism.’ Confidence? You’ll get there.” Cora didn’t miss a beat, chiming in before Sara could lay out her plan.

Inwardly, Sara grimaced, but she gave Cora a polite smile. If the other biotic continued to undermine her authority, Sara was going to—no.

She had built up this version of herself, the lucky newcomer with no experience. She had made this bed, and now she had to lie in it.

“Give both navpoints to Kallo. We’ll hit Havarl first, then Voeld,” she declared. “I want to make sure the scientists are safe before we start dishing it out to the kett,” she added with a sharp smile. It would feel good to get back to the relative simplicity of killing things. No one she had to appease or manipulate there.

 _Pathfinder, Director Tann will likely want an update in person at some point_ , SAM reminded her quietly.

“And we’ll stop by the Nexus after Havarl,” she tacked on, her response quick enough that it seemed like it had been part of the original plan. Sara could definitely use the opportunity to check in on Scott. Even just seeing him would soothe some of her frazzled nerves.

“Let’s do this.” With that, the meeting adjourned.

Now she just had to pull everything with as few issues as possible. First thing first, she was going to find Liam and a beer, except maybe not in that order.  


	2. Krogan Cooking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara just wanted a damn beer and to not think about everything (especially a certain new member of the crew) for a bit. 
> 
> Unfortunately, as with most of her plans in Heleus, it does not go the way she intended. Instead of having a drink on the couch and possibly blowing off some steam, she's sitting in the kitchen helping Drack cook. 
> 
> Apparently, not only can the old krogan cook, he can read Sara like a book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments, kudos, and bookmarks on the last chapter!  
> Enjoy!

Sara sat on Liam’s couch, folding her long legs up neatly under her so she took up only a single cushion, leaving plenty of room for Liam’s frame. She twirled the neck of the beer bottle between her forefinger and thumb, dangling it languidly over the arm of the couch.

To the casual observer, she would appear relaxed, content, waiting on a friend. A second beer was sitting, unopened, perspiring, on the little coffee table Sara had provided to go with the couch. She had almost regretted getting it when she and Liam had slept together on the couch—quite literally, they had both fallen asleep tangled up together shortly after they had both climaxed—and she had almost woken up by nailing her forehead on one of the corners.

“SAM?” Sara’s head lolled back, her eyes closing. “You did send that message to Liam, right?” she queried. After she had called their meeting, she had had SAM send Liam a quick email asking if he wanted to join her for a beer.

She had smiled a little when she pictured him asking if she meant a beer or a _beer_. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure she was really in the mood for either, but she knew that the last thing she wanted was to go sit in her fancy quarters, the quarters designed with her father in mind, and stare out at the stars. The vast emptiness of space could be beautiful, but as of late it had felt cold and lonely, or even menacing when there were large clouds of the Scourge present.

“I sent the message as requested, Pathfinder.” The corners of Sara’s lips tugged down in a frown and she opened her eyes to stare up at the metal ceiling.

“I get the impression you don’t approve,” she said, her tone almost pleasant, as if she was truly interested in hearing SAM’s thoughts. SAM, however, could read her vitals. He knew more about her than even Sara was aware of. All of that meant that he was aware of the tension thrumming through her body, making her more like a coiled serpent ready to strike than a lioness lounging in repose.

“Mr. Kosta seems not to have opened the message yet,” SAM replied, studiously avoiding giving Sara a direct response.

A soft huff of laughter echoed strangely in the small compartment. 

“You were created by Alec, alright,” Sara commented, raising the beer to her lips and taking a draught of one of the last beers from the Milky Way ever. Knowing humanity, though, it likely wouldn’t be long until there were some new alcohols to try. Whether they were any good, or even safe for consumption, would be a different issue.

She lowered the bottle and stared at it in sudden distaste. “Having a beer with a friend is perfectly normal. Sitting around nursing a beer by yourself in a dark room is just pathetic,” she commented, a self-deprecating smile on her face as she placed the cool glass bottle on the table. 

“Where is Liam?” she asked, expanding and rising to her feet.

“Mr. Kosta appears to be engaging in dialogue with Mr. Ama Daraav.”

Sara’s eyebrow rose. “Well, I think Liam just volunteered himself for the away party on Havaarl,” she said, the door sliding open as she moved down into the garage, as she liked to think of it. Cora was fiddling with something—Sara was privately glad the other human biotic was staying away from their guest for the time being—and was oblivious to her quietly padding towards the crew quarters.

Vetra was almost certainly holed up in her little compartment, and Peebee would be tinkering with something in the escape pod. Gill would be in the engine room, and Kallo and Suvi would be on the bridge. That left Lexi and Drack unaccounted for.

“Kid.” The single word called from the kitchen as she passed had Sara stopping, twirling midstep and plastering on a fake grin.  

“Yea old man?” she queried, taking up a position leaning against the wall. Drack was doing something to some type of meat—she had learned to enjoy his food without trying to ask what was in it—but he stopped as she looked at him.

“You’ve got guts, kid.” The familiar warmth of his words had Sara’s smile brightening, expanding to reach her eyes.

“No guts, no glory,” she replied, playing off the effect his words and his tone had on her.

“Be careful out there,” Drack continued, decisively hacking a chunk of meat into cubes. Ryder found herself trying to guess what it was and stopped. Drack’s Surprise was much better when it truly was a surprise, as the ingredients and flavor changed every time he made it. 

“Hey, I wasn’t eaten alive, _and_ I managed to pick up a handsome alien guy with my ship,” Sara joked. She wasn’t sure why he was bringing up ‘out there’ when they were still a ways away from Harvarl, but she anticipated him going further into depth.

Drack set the knife he was using down, fixing her with a gaze that reminded her of just how old he was and how much he had seen in his life. “Handsome?” The single worded question had Sara opening her mouth, a flash of dismay in her eyes as she prepared some excuse.  “I may be a relic, kid, but I didn’t get this old by being a fool,” he informed her.

Sara blinked, closing her mouth. She shifted, shadows falling across her eyes, giving her the appearance of something wild and strange, not quite cornered, but preparing to lash out. Then she was back in the light, striding into the kitchen and plopping into the scant space available beside Drack’s large frame on the bench. Not that she was exactly small herself, her height on par with Vetra’s.

She stared vacantly towards the doorway, finding it easier to talk without looking at the krogan. When she looked at him, it felt like he knew exactly what she was hiding behind her mask, and that was the last thing she wanted from anyone on the crew. “I was supposed to be having a beer with Liam, but apparently the new guy is a bigger draw than I am,” she said lightly, leaning back to try and compensate for only being able to fit half a butt cheek on the bench-seat, Drack’s armor competing with her space.

“Hmmph,” Drack responded, returning to dicing up the meat. Sara reached out and poked one of the cubes, watching it jiggle a little with horrified fascination.

“Drack Surprise?” she asked.

“Different every time,” he rumbled, the blade coming too close to Sara’s offending finger for her comfort. She withdrew it hastily, letting her head fall back to stare up at the ceiling. There was a light in her way, and she squinted. There was already a light behind her head, and a light in the corner, and a light above the sink that was full of dishes that someone should really wash.

Was dishwashing something a Pathfinder could delegate?

Sara stowed the thought for later, returning her focus to her conversation with Drack.

“If I wasn’t afraid I’d end up dancing naked on the Nexus, I’d say we should grab a drink,” she mused, tapping her thigh with the fingers of her left hand.

“Hah,” Drack huffed out a laugh, and Sara found the left side of her mouth twitching up in response.

They sat in companionable silence, Ryder taking the opportunity to just breathe, the strange rhythm of the knife a grounding force, keeping her thoughts from wandering too far.

This was almost perfect. Sitting here, next to a krogan who had so far, in their fairly short acquaintance, been a better father figure than Alec, making dinner for a crew that was growing on her.

It was like home. 

The thought hit her hard, and she had to blink back a sudden rush of tears, her hands clenching on her lap. Her breath caught, and she clenched her jaw.

_Get it under control, Sara_ , she though viciously.

_“Sara, you seem to be experiencing emotional distress.”_ SAM’s private communication almost made her laugh, but she choked it back, knowing it would come out somewhere between hysterical and crazed.

_No shit,_ she thought at the AI, even knowing that he couldn’t read her mind. She refused to speak out loud in response to his concern, not wanting to clue the krogan in to her current state. As it was, she suspected Drack was doing her the courtesy of pretending to not notice rather than being oblivious to her internal struggle.

“ _…given your lack of response, I have initiated steps to help you regain control of your emotions,”_ SAM responded.

It was a little weird to have the AI in her head telling her that he was going to stop her from having a break-down, but Sara seized the idea. Slowly she felt the rising tide of emotions receding, the urge to cry dissipating.

She missed Scott. Whatever SAM was doing to her body allowed her to think that without plunging back into that emotional pit that made her want to curl up in a small ball in a corner of her Pathfinder quarters, clutching her blanket like she was still a child.

He should be here, with her. She _needed_ him here, but instead he was in a coma on the Hyperion. At least he was still alive. He hadn’t gotten their father killed, because of being too incompetent.

“ _Sara, you are becoming upset again. I am uncomfortable with further intercession at this time. If this continues, I ask that you seek out Dr. T’Perro.”_

Ryder looked down at her lap, at her white-knuckled hands clenched into fists sitting on her thighs. It wasn’t that she disliked T’Perro, but she hated psychological evaluations. The very thought was almost enough to induce a panic attack, and brought up unpleasant childhood memories of school councilors.

“Hey, kid, make yourself useful and grab the can of spices above the sink.” Sara rose to her feat, trudging over to the sink. She looked at several different nearly identical cans, but her vision was blurry with unshed tears.

“Uh, which—which one?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from wavering. She wasn’t successful.

“Just grab a couple. We’ll see what we have to work with.” Sara stared back over her shoulder, an exaggerated look of horror on her face.

“It’s not supposed to be a surprise to the cook!” she exclaimed, even as she scooped several of the cans into her arms, turning back to the table.

“Ha ha ha!” Drack laughed at her expression, snagging a couple of the cans and looking at them in turn. “I know what I’m doing, kid. Been around before your kind knew how to use FTL. I think you can trust me to not poison you.”

“Not all of us have redundant organs,” Sara muttered, though she was smiling as she said it. She started to scoot back onto the bench seat, but Drack shooed her towards one of the chairs.

“I need to check on the vegetables in the oven, and get started on Vetra and Kallo’s food.” Sara sat in her chair, rocking back on two legs for a moment, watching Drack get up through narrowed eyes.

“My mother could throw stuff together, but I always have to follow a recipe.” Ryder found the words spilling from her lips and almost frowned. Her mask had taken a hit earlier today, and now things were leaking through the cracks. It was irritating, but at least with Drack it wasn’t a big deal.

She closed her eyes, head lolling back as a wave of smell hit her nose. Her stomach growled, and she chuckled. “Smells good.”

“Damn right it does,” Drack rumbled.

Sara couldn’t quite place the aroma, but the scent of food, the warmth in the air—with her eyes closed, she could picture herself being back in their family apartment on the Citadel.

Ellen had loved it when the twins came home from their separate assignments. She would usually take the day off, start cooking early in the morning. Often Sara was the first one to arrive back, and she would walk into the scene of her mother, usually covered in some of the ingredients she had been using, alternating between working on the food and speaking notes about her research to her personal assistant VI.

Ellen would stop when Sara walked in, and before the female Ryder twin could even drop her duffle bag she would be pulled down into a hug from her smaller mother.

Then she would be roped into being a sous chef, and Ellen Ryder would have her VI start playing some her favorite songs. She would start singing along, and generally elbowing Sara until she joined in, her own alto contrasting with her mother’s sweet soprano.

Scott would be singing before he even got in the door, grinning at his “two favorite women,” before pulling them into a jumble of a hug. 

She wasn’t even aware she was humming until a new voice cut across her memories, a voice that had never been part of Ellen Ryder’s kitchen. 

“Woah, Ryder, you can sing?”

Sara rocketed forward, propelling herself out of the flimsy chair and to her feet, feeling her cheeks warm as she turned to face the interloper. Scratch that, interlopers. Plural.

Liam was standing in the doorway with Jaal, and Sara couldn’t decide where she wanted to look less—at the curious angaran, or the grinning Liam.

“I wasn’t singing,” she protested weakly.

“You were definitely carrying a tune,” Liam needled, and Sara took a step backward at the glint in his eyes, nearly tripping over the chair she had just gotten up out of.

“So, you’re, uh, showing Jaal around the ship?” she asked, trying desperately to distract him from his current line of inquiry.

“Oh, yea. Figured I’d give him a tour and introduce him properly to the Tempest,” Liam said, shooting a friendly smile at Jaal. Sara’s relief was short-lived as he turned his gaze back to her. Her smile froze in place.

“Don’t think I didn’t catch you trying to distract me. Maybe we should have a karaoke night in addition to a movie night. Jaal, angara sing, right?” Liam had that excited tone that Sara had learned to dread. It meant that she was about to watch the situation sprawl outside her control.

On the other hand, Liam had good ideas for fostering team morale, albeit it they often came at the cost of some of her dignity and professional standing. Prioritizing a download of movies because you were the Pathfinder? She would just have to do it when there were as few people as possible around who might question why the Pathfinder—currently the _only_ one, which was another issue—was busy flipping through vids, trying to plan a movie night.

People under stress needed an outlet, but people in positions of power often got testy when they were reminded that their underlings were people too, with their own needs. Not that Sara minded pissing Tann off, but she didn’t want to look too unprofessional in front of Kesh or anyone else.

“We do,” Jaal rumbled, his strange eyes piercing Sara, transfixing her. She tried to imagine the rumble of his voice, already lyrical, lifted in song. It did strange things to her stomach, and she found herself rubbing her sweating palms on the legs of her pants. When she caught herself doing so she stopped, folding her hands in front of her and rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. The blush in her cheeks was not going to fade at this rate.

“I would very much like to hear some of your species’ music,” Jaal said, and he was definitely speaking to her and not Liam. “Your… humming… has me intrigued.”

Sara sucked in a breath, and forgot to let it out. His eyes were mesmerizing, and to have that focus on her was causing her body to respond in ways she wasn’t ready for. Half of it had to be his damn voice, that constant rumble that underlaid every syllable.

“It’s part of an important cultural exchange, Ryder,” Liam chimed in, but even the reminder of his presence couldn’t make Sara tear her eyes away.

“I wasn’t—that wasn’t even—it’s an _old_ song,” she protested weakly, hearing Drack bang something behind her.

All this trying to cover her ass with weak protests really wasn’t doing anything for her credibility as a fully functional leader.

“You know what? Find me a bottle of good, proper scotch and I’ll sing whatever you want wherever you want.” She rallied behind her statement, straightening her back and smiling at Jaal before quickly shifting her gaze over to Liam.

“Scotch?” Jaal’s question rumbled out, and Sara winced.

“It’s a type of alcohol from Earth,” Liam answered. His quick reply made Sara think that he had been answering a wide variety of questions from the curious angara since she had adjourned their meeting.

“Is it typical for humans to be intoxicated before singing in public?” Jaal asked, and Sara had to turn away to maintain her composure, unable to determine if she was going to start laughing or cringing at how brilliantly she was representing humans at the moment.

“A lot of them do like to get drunk first,” Drack said from behind her, and Sara snorted. “They don’t have the quads to sing in public otherwise.”  Sara pressed her lips together, figuratively biting her tongue.

“This is… an amusing rite?” Jaal was clearly confused, and Sara tried to stop herself, but the giggles burst forth.

She looked back over at the angara, intent on trying to reassure him, but the look he was exchanging with Liam just sent her over the edge. Weak-kneed, she collapsed on the chair, almost tipping over backwards in the process.

Sara forced herself to take a few deep breaths, and when she thought she was under control, she looked up.

It was a mistake. Liam smile was far too amused, and Jaal’s bemused grin was both enticing and, at least to her current emotional state, hilarious to behold.

_Might as well go overboard,_ she thought, since she was already heading down this path. The laughter that burst forth was loud and bright, and if there was an edge of hysteria hidden in it, Sara was quick to disguise it with exaggerated breaths, a pretense of attempting to regain her normal breathing pattern.

“Is this… normal?” she heard Jaal asking, as she gasped and wheezed, her sides starting to split.

“I think you fellows broke Ryder,” Peebee voice chimed in, and at that point, Ryder gave up. She overexaggerated a breath, leaning too far back and causing her chair to tip over. “What did you—”

The chair never hit the floor though. It stopped at a roughly 45 degree angle, Sara sprawled in it, arms and legs akimbo.

The laughter died on Sara’s lips, and her eyes hardened. “What did you do to Ryder?” Cora’s voice cut through whatever part of her laughter had been genuine. Of course Cora would come in when Ryder was cutting the least bit loose. The flush in her cheeks would be attributed to her abruptly ended laugh-attack, but it was backed by irritation.

Sara reached out with her own biotics, righting her chair. She rose, a smile fixed on her face despite the inner turmoil that she was experiencing.

“Nothing. It was just an... amusing misunderstanding of cultural norms,” Sara said, making sure the corners of her eyes crinkled with her false smile. “My fault, entirely.”

She fixed on Jaal’s shoulder, glad that he was the tallest figure in front of her, partially obscuring Peebee and Cora.

There were too many people crowded in the doorway, and the serenity she had almost attained simply sitting in the room with Drack had completely evaporated. “Liam was just giving Jaal a tour of the ship, and I was helping Drack with dinner.”

It irked that she was sitting here, explaining herself to a woman who was technically _her_ second-in-command. She hadn’t been doing anything wrong, and yet she felt a coil of guilt that also tasted faintly of shame coiling in her gut.

Suddenly she wasn’t hungry, or in the mood to be around anyone. She definitely wasn’t in the mood to be the focus of five people’s attention. Make that six, as Gil’s head poked around the door. She had to stomp down hard on her impulse to make a snappish comment, instead raising an eyebrow at Gil.

“Don’t you have some upgrades to finish implementing?” she asked, seizing his appearance as a chance to shift the focus off a her. Gil shrugged.

“It was hard to concentrate with someone shrieking like a banshee,” he told her. Sara rose to her feet, using her height to stare down at Gil.

“You saying I look half-dead?” Sara asked, folding her arms over her chest in mock offense.

“Well, you have died once so far,” Gil responded. “And I function on little sleep. You barely keep up when you get enough,” he continued.

“You wound me, Brodie,” Sara said, their banter reminiscent of her interactions with Scott. They didn’t really know each other well though, so the comparison only held up on the surface. “But if you don’t go back to working on your upgrade, I might have to ask Kallo what his thoughts are,” she said, not even trying to keep the smugness out of her voice.

“You wouldn’t, or I might have to tell him that you authorized it. I know how much you love keeping our salarian from strangling me.” Sara narrowed her eyes, debated flipping him off, and settled for a head tilt.

“Let’s call it a draw this time. You do your thing, and I’ll go get some sleep before we hit Havarl so you no longer mistake me for some undead spirit,” Sara quipped, jabbing her thumb in the direction of her quarters.

“Wait, does that mean you’re not eating dinner?” Peebee asked, eagerly leaping into the conversation.

Sara rolled her eyes. “Sure Peebee, you can have my portion.”

“Ryder, don’t encourage her. Besides, given that you’re likely to engage in combat on Havarl, you should be eating now.” Ryder forced herself to slowly count to ten before speaking to Cora.

“Thanks for watching out for me Cora, I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.” Gil cast one glance between her and Cora, and started retreating towards the engine room.

“I’ll catch you later Ryder,” he said, the skills that made him such a formidable poker player letting him know that he didn’t want to hang around much longer.

“I, uh, should get back to my research on Remnant tech. Might help us on Havarl. And I’m holding you to that second portion!” Peebee exclaimed, picking up a Gil’s cue and making her own retreat. Or maybe she was as loathe to listen to a Cora lecture as Sara was. Either way, Sara considered asking Peebee to take Sara with her and not leave her with Cora.

Of course, if it had just been her and Cora, it would be much easier. Instead, she still had an audience of Jaal, Liam, and Drack. The krogan hadn’t said a word since the others had shown up, but Sara had been tracking him moving around behind her, continuing to make dinner.

“Liam, you should finish showing Jaal around before dinner,” Sara said, shifting her attention to the guys in front of her.

“I brought several buckets of nutrient paste onboard with me,” Jaal informed her. “I am not sure that your food would agree with me, and even if it were to, I suspect that I may not care for it. Peebee may have my portion as well.”

“You should try Drack’s Surprise at least once,” Liam commented. “He’s the best cook on the ship. If Suvi offers you something, I’d be wary,” he added.

“Until Lexi gets a chance to do a full analysis on the compatibility of our food with angaran biology, let’s hold off on the taste testing,” Sara cautioned, raising a hand. She really didn’t need to accidently kill off their alien ambassador because one of the mystery ingredients in Drack’s Surprise was poisonous to their newest crew member.

“Agreed,” Cora chimed in. Sara fought back a scowl. She didn’t care that Cora agreed or disagreed with her—it was her crew, and her command, and her decision. Rather than saying any of that though, she blinked and fixed her look back on Jaal.

“I think it would possibly be the first time a krogan killed someone with their cooking,” she said, teasing the angaran.

“Are krogan—” Jaal stopped himself, peering closer at Sara’s face, those beautiful eyes getting so close she almost drowned in them.

Cliché romance lines running through her head. Sara really needed to get her head back on straight. That beer with Liam was supposed to fix all this, but then Liam had been too busy with the alien that was causing her numerous problems.

“Ah, you are teasing,” he declared, pulling back and flashing her a small smile.

“Yea,” she responded. Odd how she became incapable of full sentences when he actually addressed her. “It was a joke. A poor one, but a joke nevertheless.”

“Better than you planning to land on Aya on fire,” he responded, his smile expanding and making some part of Sara respond like a small child receiving a present.

“I promise, not _all_ my jokes are terrible. Scott—” her voice caught in her throat, but she forced herself past that before anyone could notice “—my brother, he’s better at them.”

“You speak as if you only have one brother,” Jaal said, lips curling.

“I do.” Sara’s reply was flat, her discomfort at this line of questioning coming across in the sudden darkening of her eyes.

“Oh. That is strange. Do humans not have many siblings?” The questions were well meaning, and Sara tried to steer her emotions towards feeling flattered that he was enquiring about her, but she was too raw right now to be successful.

“No. My brother and I are twins. Even rarer,” she said softly, idly moving her thumb to stroke over the small tattoo on the inside of her left wrist. It was identical to the one on Scott’s wrist, something the pair of them had gotten after leaving the Alliance military (more like getting kicked out, thanks to Alec’s research, but that was irrelevant now.)  

“Ah. Do you—”

“Jaal, you may not eat Drack’s Surprise, but I do, and if I have to fend off Peebee, I’d better get here when it’s ready.” Liam could sometimes be surprisingly intuitive, or maybe he really just wanted to make sure he would be here when the food was ready.

“Ryder, we’ll catch up later?” The half-question, half-statement did nothing to inform Sara on Liam’s current standing with her. Had he gotten her message about the beer? Damn, she had left hers on the table, only half-drunk. At least the other one could be cooled again, since it hadn’t been opened yet.

“I’m probably going to crash until Havarl, but for sure,” she said, as Liam clapped Jaal on the shoulder and slipped past Cora.

“Crash? I hope that’s an idiom and not the Pathfinder’s plan for landing on Havarl,” she heard Jaal say as the pair headed towards the rear of the ship.

“Ryder, you have to eat. The strain of using biotics—”

“Is nothing new. My mother helped pioneer the L2 and L3 implants for biotics. I grew up with her, and I was one of her frequent volunteers as well as study participants.” Sara’s voice was just barely congenial, and the smile she had on her face would have told anyone more familiar with her that this was not a good line of conversation.

“Ryder, I’ve trained with asari commandos. I’ve seen what not appropriately—”

“Cora, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine. Now, excuse me, but what I _do_ need is some sleep before we hit Havarl, so that’s what I’m going to do.” Sara turned half-sideways to get past Cora in the doorway, quickly heading to her quarters.

“She’s tough, for a human,” Drack commented. Cora glared at him.

“You know I’m right,” she accused, not pleased with his indifferent attitude.

“I know that she needs her space more than she needs you nagging. The kid’s got good instincts.”

Cora sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’m not disputing that. But if she doesn’t care of herself, the rest of it won’t matter. I’m just trying to help.”

Drack gave her a look. “Let her get out and shoot some things. Then try talking to her again.” Done playing therapist to the young aliens, the old krogan turned back to his meal.

“Dinner will be ready shortly.”

Cora smiled sadly. “Alright, thanks. I’ll let the others know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not go the way I had initially planned. A lot more angst slipped in (Sara showed some of her insecurities earlier than I thought she would).
> 
> It was a slower chapter, but hopefully you can get more of an idea of Sara's state of mind and her relationships with the various crew members.
> 
> Also, the biggest deviation from the default Sara my Sara has in terms of appearance is her height. It's the one aspect of myself that I will lend to her, so expect some head-banging, tripping, and general side-effects of being taller than average from her compounded with her usual shenanigans.


	3. In the Quiet of Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaal has trouble sleeping in the new environment of the space ship.
> 
> He's not the only one, and he and the Pathfinder have a conversation.

It was too quiet on the aliens’ fancy space ship. The whole experience was new, and exciting, but with most of the crew sleeping, his thoughts were too loud for the quiet of space. He didn’t regret his decision to volunteer for this role, but he did miss the comfort of other angara sleeping around him. Then again, having a room entirely to himself after so long with the resistance was a bit of a nice reprieve as well.

Jaal glanced around the tech lab from where he was reclined on his cot. While he itched to start taking some of the components apart, he had a feeling that they would take the action less than favorably. He was still trying to get a measurement of the crew.

Sleep was eluding him, hiding in plain sight like a challyrion. In an attempt to let routine lull him into a more restful state, he had taken apart his modified kett rifle, and put it back together. Then he had done it again. And again. And again.

By the time he was contemplating taking apart his rifle for the fifth time, he was starting to question the sanity of his decision. It was exciting to be working alongside the new aliens, but he was also trying to stay aloof in respect to Evfra’s wishes. Well, Evfra had said to be cautious, and seeing as that had never been a strong-point of his, Jaal was attempting to use distance to ensure that he remained cautious.

Grunting in frustration, he gave up on the charade of sleeping and rose to his feet. Maybe another walkthrough of the ship would help him. Most of the crew had retired after dinner (Jaal had eaten his nutrient paste alone in the tech lab, but he could hear their boisterous banter from where he was. The loudness of the dinner table had been oddly reassuring). He wondered if it was normal for their leader to not eat with the crew. She had seemed at ease with the large alien—krogan, he reminded himself—but she had withdrawn to her cabin after she had nearly toppled over in her chair. Perhaps she was embarrassed about almost falling in front of him. Liam had informed him that humans were not as comfortable with showing their emotions as angara were.

Shame. He rather liked watching Sara Ryder’s facial expressions. She was very different from Liam. Liam’s eyes and expressions always matched his words and gestures, but there was a tension in everything Ryder did. If she were an angara, Jaal imagined that her skin would always be thrumming with barely contained bioelectricity. There was something about her that made him want to—metaphorically—take her apart, understand how she worked, how she functioned.

The tech lab door opened and Jaal walked out into the research area, completely deserted at this hour. He inclined his head towards the bio lab, but the plants held little interest for him at the moment, though Liam had gone on about some ‘roses’ that one of the other human females, Cora, was trying to grow. From what Jaal gathered they were a flower, but one that could inflict harm on unwary people if they were not careful. It could be used for tea as well, he remembered, Liam responding to his question about the point of bringing them. Mostly, though, it was for these roses’ supposed beauty.

He wished his people were in a position where they could do things because they wanted to or because it simply looked pretty.

He heard a door opening, and turned around. It wasn’t one of the ones on this level. Jaal quietly padded towards the bridge, and was startled by the sight below him. He opened his mouth to call out a warning to Ryder, that something was attacking her small head, but stopped himself as she reached up and scratched at the thing. It seemed to settle down, and he titled his head to one side, studying the brown mess. He concluded that it was the same brown mess—hair, he thinks it might have been called—that she had had pulled back out of her face earlier. Curious.

Ryder was clad in plain white clothes, and they were far more revealing of her form than the jacket she had been wearing earlier, but she was also clutching a colorful blanket over her shoulders. A pair of soft pinkish feet peeked out from beneath sleep pants that were too short for her tall frame. Her height had been one of the first things Jaal had noticed, and although the sample of humans on the Tempest was not necessarily representative of their race as a whole, he felt comfortable assuming that she was above average in height for her species. Certainly her current dress seemed to support that, the sleeves also too short, not quite falling to her wrists.

Ryder was staring about, looking rather lost. The hand not clutching the patchwork quilt around her shoulder was holding an empty mug. After a moment, she disappeared into the kitchen. Jaal heard the water running and then it shut off. Briefly he debated returning to the tech lab, but he didn’t see the harm in watching.

Ryder reemerged, sipping at her cup. Jaal shifted restlessly and she froze, eyes flicking about, suddenly behaving like prey that had just been alerted to the presence of the predator. Jaal carefully cleared his throat, not wanting to startle her like earlier with the krogan.

Ryder’s head fell back, and she stared up, her crystal eyes sharp as he became caught in their gaze.

“Can’t sleep either, hmm?” she asked. Her voice held a raspy edge to it, different from the clear tones of the earlier hours. She frowned, and took another sip of whatever was in her mug as she shuffled towards the ladder leading up to his level. At the ladder she stopped, narrowing her eyes at the cold metal rungs.

“Some days, I really hate these things,” she muttered. Jaal opened his mouth to speak but shut it before voicing his thoughts. He was not sure the Pathfinder had meant for him to hear her.

Sighing, Sara bent over and set her cup down, shifting her colorful cape to rest around her neck, freeing up both her hands. Slowly she started clambering up, hissing as the soles of her feet touched the metal rungs. She was muttering too low for his translator to pick up on what she was saying, but the stormy expression he caught as she finished pulling herself up onto the deck suggested that they were not phrases he would want to employ frequently.

“Hang on,” she said to him, and Jaal watched, bemused, as she leaned over the edge to stare at her cup.

“If you wish, I could—” He started to make an offer, having theorized that a sleepy Pathfinder was perhaps not in the best position for solving basic problems. Or, perhaps, she simply struggled with the concept of gravity. Her earlier episode with the chair supported that theory.

Sara reached her hand out, and then her entire body started glowing purple. Jaal blinked, surprised. A ball of energy slowly coalesced around her extended palm, floating towards the cup on the floor below. It surrounded the mug, and much to Jaal’s delight, both the mug and the energy started floating back up towards Ryder.

“That was marvelous!” he exclaimed, eager to interrogate Ryder as to how she had done that trick. None of the Milky Way aliens had the angara’s bioelectricity, but they had other intriguing abilities as he had just seen.

Ryder jumped a little, her concentration breaking at Jaal’s too loud laughter. “Oh, fu—fudge monkeys.” She caught herself in time to stop from swearing in front of the alien delegation as she splashed water over her chest. _Damn it, the Tempest was not warm enough for this_.

 _"Pathfinder, you may want to adjust your quilt_ ," SAM chimed quietly to her over their private communication channel. Sara glanced down, and flushed. Add one item to Vetra’s list: non-white pajamas. It would be even better if they were meant for someone her size. Vetra was tall too; maybe Sara would get lucky. She stood up hurriedly, readjusting the quilt so she was just a head and a pair of feet protruding from the blanket tent she had made with her body.

“Fudge monkeys?” Jaal tilted his head to one side, clearly confused by her censored curse.

“Ah, a personal quirk of mine. I try not to swear too much,” she confided. Swearing had not been acceptable in the Ryder household, and even at her most rebellious Sara had never had much of a fondness for it. It was amusing to swear up a storm on occasion, however, just to throw others for a loop. If she hadn’t thought Cora might actually write her up for doing so, Ryder might have done it just to mess with the other human biotic. “Don’t try to understand it. Half the time I’m not even sure of what is going to come out of my mouth.” She snapped her jaw shut, surprised by her sudden bout of verbosity for a question that could have been answered in a far more concise answer.

She gestured with a flutter of her quilt towards the vid con, her half-asleep brain preventing her from her usual second-guessing of social niceties. “If you want to talk for a bit, I’m going to stare out at the stars,” she said, turning her back to Jaal and not waiting for his response before trudging up the ramp to the vid con deck and curling up on one of the benches. The lights were all dimmed, and the room was lit by starlight.

After a few moments, Jaal walked into her view, hesitating before sitting on the same bench, but as far away from her as he could get without falling off.

They sat in silence for a few moments. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t awkward either. Sara burrowed into her blanket, her wet top not helping with her normal state of being colder than everyone else on board. She wondered if Jaal had any issues with the temperature. Maybe he was even warm. All it would take is some innocent stretching and then she could—

Sara cut off that dangerous line of thought abruptly, grasping for something, anything that could distract her.

“So how are you settling in?” she settled on the first question she could think of that was banal enough but might also provide her with some distraction, shifting so she was hugging her knees under the quilt, letting her cheek rest on them so she could stare at Jaal sideways.  

“It feels strange. I took the tech lab. Staying with the others—they are—you are—aliens.” He was defending his takeover of the tech lab, and Sara had to fight back a grin. They already had one person sleeping in an escape pod, and she had caught Gil napping in the Nomad once already. She really didn’t care as long as each member of her crew felt that they had a space of their own on board.

“Well, you’re alien to us too, so we have something in common.”

Jaal was staring at Sara. In his previous encounters with the human Pathfinder, she had seemed wound tight, a ball of tightly contained energy just waiting to explode. Now her movements, her expression, everything about her was languid and relaxed.

“I sent you a full manifest of everything I brought on board.” It wasn’t a smooth transition at all, but Jaal was unsure how to respond. His duty to the Resistance and Evfra seemed to dictate that he not form too close of a bond with the Pathfinder, but he found the idea of commonalities between the pair of them to be appealing. It was a bit of a conundrum, and as much as the Pathfinder had intrigued him earlier, this side of her interested him too.

“That’d be a first,” Ryder responded with a huff.

Jaal’s brow furrowed. “Excuse me?” he said, not sure he was accurately interpreting Ryder’s statement. She waved a hand from beneath the edge of her quilt.

“I mean, _most_ of the crew doesn’t bother with telling me everything they bring on board. I’m not even sure I’d want to know all of what Peebee has in her space, and with Vetra I’m a proponent of plausible deniability.” She sighed.

“Liam brought his couch,” Sara blushed as she said it, even though it had been a casual remark, recalling exactly what they had done on that couch, “and even Cora has her roses,” she continued, trying not to dwell on her extracurricular activities.

“I mean, this isn’t even on the official manifest,” she added, tugging on her quilt.

“Is that an item from your family?” Jaal asked, and Sara curled tighter around her knees.

“Yea. Something like that.”

Jaal determined that the flat tone of her voice meant that this was a topic that he should revisit when they had established more trust. Instead he decided to ask about her trick with the cup.

“Earlier—what was that?”

“Hmm?” Sara asked, blinking slowly at him. He was tempted to send a small current through her, just to test if she was really awake. He was starting to have his doubts.

“What you did with your mug. Is that something all humans can do?” he asked, moving his hand in a fashion similar to what Ryder had done to demonstrate.

“Oh! Biotics!” Sara’s lips pursed as she tried to think of a concise but informative explanation. “Not all humans have them. The only race that is truly naturally biotic are the asari. The rest of us are biotic because of exposure to an element we call element zero while we are in utero. I know in humans it’s pretty rare—only somewhere around 10% of pregnant women who are exposed give birth to kids who are capable of using biotics to any degree, much less what—” Sara stopped, about to say _‘what I can do,’_ but the words felt too boastful, and especially given her lack of formal training—the exact opposite of Cora’s training with asari commandos, the knowledge of which hurt—she wasn’t about to make a show of it.

“Not a lot of powerful biotics outside the asari,” she finished, looking away from Jaal and out the window. It was so strange to see stars and systems that she knew nothing of. Back in the Milky Way, she had gotten pretty adept at recognizing various stars from different planets. She knew what you could see from Earth, Mars, the Citadel, Palaven, Thessia… whenever she had been bored, looking at the star maps had soothed her, and understanding what they would look like to the different populations from their planets had intrigued her.

“So Dr. T'Perro and Peebee are both biotics then?” Jaal asked, testing his understanding of this new knowledge.

“Yep.” There was an awkward pause this time, as Jaal recalled the chair incident from earlier and Ryder pondered how Cora managed to worm into almost every conversation without even being there. “Cora is too,” she added, trying to sound at least cheerful but hearing how miserably she had failed. Oh well. Cora wasn’t here to ream her anyways.

“And you.”

Ryder allowed herself a small smile. “And me,” she confirmed. “Biotics are just another quirk of us weird aliens.”

“Well, if we are aliens, perhaps it is more about what _kind_ of alien we are.” Jaal’s comment had Ryder turning her head back to stare at him. It was his turn to be staring out into space, but she rather appreciated the chance to study his profile without being distracted by his galaxy eyes.

“You knew nothing about us, but you jumped onboard this madhouse to help us.” Sara’s voice was soft, and there was a raw, vulnerable undercurrent to it. Jaal wanted to look back at her, but was half-afraid that if he turned his head he would spook her in some fashion. Humans were not as comfortable with their feelings as angara. That was one of the first things he was learning, and he had to keep reminding himself of that. 

“I think that makes you something else,” she added, glad of the blanket she was huddling under that prevented her from doing something entirely stupid like trying to reach out and touch Jaal’s rofjin. It seemed like she wasn’t the only one struggling to define her place in this galaxy.

“Perhaps it had nothing to do with you.” Jaal couldn’t resist turning his head back as he said this, and was pleased to see Sara’s whole face light up with a smile as she laughed softly.

“Ouch. And here I was, thinking I’d made such a great first impression that you felt you just had to tag along and see how this all played out. Do you care to elaborate more, or are you just going to leave me hanging?” she queried, eyes dancing with mischief.

Jaal opened his mouth to reply, delighted by the banter they had started, and then shut it. “I do not,” he said slowly, remembering Evfra’s words like a kick to the gut. He needed to be more careful with his words, especially around Ryder. They had only known each other for a few hours and already he wanted to tell her—well, he wanted to tell her everything.

He frowned. That wasn’t right. Luckily Ryder sensed his mood and swapped to a safer topic.

“So the Moshae Sjefa—how do you know her? I mean, I’ve garnered that she’s a pretty important figure to your people because of her work on the Remnant, but you seem to have a personal connection.” Ryder snaked a hand out and picked up her mug that she had placed on the end table, looking askance at it as she realized she had spilled most of the water on herself.

“I was her student,” Jaal informed her. It was once again treading on potentially dangerous conversation topics, but he wanted to know Ryder better, and she was respecting his wishes when he avoided certain topics.

“So you studied the Remnant too?” she asked, the cup returning to its exile on the end table, now completely empty.

“I was a terrible student. I quit. Or she threw me out. One of those.”

Sara bit down on her lip, trying not to laugh. “Been there,” she said with a grin.

“It’s kind of one of the reasons I was assigned to guard Prothean researchers,” she added, gaze turning distant, her expression falling.

“And the other reasons?” he enquired, wanting to know more about where Sara came from.

She hesitated.

“It’s not a suitable bed-time story,” she finally said, shifting to rest her chin on her knees.

“Pathfinder, if you do not get some rest before our arrival on Havarl I will be forced to notify Dr. T'Perro that you are once again not sleeping.” SAM’s voice butted in, and Sara was simultaneously relieved and annoyed by the AI’s comment.

“Well, that’s me. If I don’t at least try to get some sleep, I think Lexi is going to have Drack sit on me.”

“How would having a krogan sit on you help with sleeping? I imagine that would be very uncomfortable,” Jaal said, standing up as Ryder rose, the two of them almost knocking heads together.

“I meant it more in the sense that Lexi thinks I’m too active and don’t get enough sleep, so at the very least she would want me stationary for several hours.

She backed away hastily, gaze skittering away from his as she turned her back to him, making the cup disappear inside her quilt fort.

“You’re right.” She stopped her exit at Jaal’s words, breath catching as she lingered to hear what their newest member had to say. “I did volunteer. And it was largely because of you.”

Ryder had no words, standing there with her feet slowly soaking up the cold of the Tempest’s deck. Maybe Gil could do something about heating the floors.

“There’s something unique about you. Uneasy, raw, but somehow profound.”

The breath she was holding came out, and she felt a little unsteady at its loss. “Careful, that sounds like a compliment.” It was a jovial response, meant to take the opportunity to dismiss the seriousness with which Jaal had delivered his line.

“It was.”

Ryder blanched.

“Angara feel deeply. We have more trouble hiding our emotions than showing them.”

 _Yea_ , Sara thought bleakly. She was starting to fully understand what that actually meant for her now too.

“Evfra instructed me to be cautious. I’m not very good at being cautious.” She wasn’t sure why he was still talking when she had her back turned to him, or why he was telling her this at all.

“Maybe we could… do something together. Like you could show me some modification stuff. I saw your rifle. It looked pretty sweet.” The words spilled out in a torrent, and Ryder was glad she was turned away because she could feel her cheeks burning.

“I would like that. But until we have established more trust with each other, I think the rest can wait. Unless you want to be sat on.”

Sara felt little butterflies in her stomach. “Not really,” she told him. “Drack’s got a lot of pointing bits and bobs. I’d rather not experience being sat on.” Ryder gave Jaal a quick flash of a smile as she made her way down, headed towards the ladder.

“Oh, and Jaal?” The angara perked up on his way back to the tech lab.

“Yes?”

“Sweet dreams.”

Jaal chuckled, and Sara half-slid, half-fell down the ladder.

“Oh, and Ryder?”  
  
She looked back up, his large luminous eyes standing out against the relative darkness of the ship’s interior.

“I would like to hear your stories sometime, when it is not bed-time.” The sincerity of his words had her spine tingling, and she genuinely could not discern if she was pleased or dismayed with the notion.

“Tit-for-tat,” she called up, plunging ahead. “I’ll tell mine if you tell me yours.”

There was a flash of brilliant white teeth, and another rumbling laugh that had her heart tapping out a frantic rhythm.

“I’d like that,” he said. The two stood there on different levels, staring at each other for a few moments until SAM butted in again.

“Pathfinder, this is still not resting.” Sara startled, letting go of the ladder and stumbling back. She would deny any claims that she was running back to her cabin, but SAM made a note that her pace was nearly double that of her standard walking about the Tempest stride. Furthermore, her heartrate was elevated though she had not performed any strenuous physical activity.

“SAM?”

“Yes, Pathfinder?”

“I just realized that sweet dreams probably doesn’t translate the same.”

“You are likely correct, Pathfinder”

“SAM?”

“Yes, Pathfinder?”

“I regret the whole teaching you sarcasm and every other strange personality trait that is now likely to come back and haunt me.”

“Ryder, if you do not go to bed, I will—”

“Alright, alright! I’m going.” Sara was suddenly hit by a wave of exhaustion. She sprawled on her bed, only just managing to squirrel herself away under the blankets before she was out.

SAM started monitoring her sleep cycle, prepared to put her into deeper sleep if the situation called for it. The last thing he needed was her REM stage being disturbed by the old memories and fear that were still rolling around. For once, however, she seemed not to be troubled by the ghosts of her past.

Interesting. SAM made a note of it. Perhaps he should inform Dr. T'Perro. He decided to let it go for the moment. As it was, the Pathfinder was likely to visit the doctor in the morning before departing, something the doctor had mandated. He also wondered if she would notice the cup imprint the Pathfinder was going to have on her face in the morning, having fallen asleep still clutching it.

“Sweet dreams, Pathfinder,” SAM said quietly into the room, watching over his charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sara spends more time one-on-one with Jaal. It's a slower chapter, but next we get to Havarl and things don't go according to plan for the Pathfinder. 
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos on the previous chapters! Hope you enjoyed this one too~

**Author's Note:**

> Insert standard disclaimer here about not owning anything and doing this strictly for entertainment.  
> Comments are brilliant and feed the muse. Kudos are also appreciated. 
> 
> And last but not least, hope at least someone else is enjoying the story.


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